#writing while high

***

MissBeahave: I think your writing is phenomenal. I would love to request a 5,000 word piece if you’re up for it.

Writer-Liter: Of course, I have a form you can fill out about your prompt. A 5,000 word piece is $60; you can see a more comprehensive list of my pricing and additional options on the form as well.

MissBeahave: Would you be willing to let me just describe the idea if I tip nicely?

Writer-Liter: I certainly won’t turn that down. Explain away and I will do my best.

To his surprise, the next message was an audio file. She sent another message before he hit play.

MissBeahave: You might want to wear headphones if anyone else is around.

Lincoln thought of his neighbors and the paper thin walls of his apartment building and decided to follow her advice. Headphones snuggly in place, he hit play.

The quality was good. There was some noise in the background, but her voice was crisp and clear. She had a pleasant lilt.

His eyes drifted closed as he listened. The background noise seemed to buzz through him. Her voice rose and fell gradually. He found his head was softly drifting side to side as he listened.

Lincoln was surprised when the sound suddenly cut off. He looked at his phone to see that the audio had ended. The time signature said it was 15 minutes, but he swore it couldn’t have been that long; he hadn’t been paying any attention..

He nearly played the audio again when he suddenly remembered the prompt. Of course he knew what the prompt was, how could he forget?

Lincoln moved to his desk, opening his laptop and a new writing document. He skipped his warm up and began writing immediately.

The words came quickly, his keyboard clacking away.

She’d given him plenty of wiggle room to play with, specifying only that it should be about a transman masturbating to the idea of a woman dominating him. It didn’t strike him as odd that such a simple premise would require a 15 minute explanation.

He based the character off himself, of course, writing how he would caress his clit, suck on his fingers, and moan as if he were being used like a fucktoy.

Lincoln’s face burned as he wrote the character counting himself down to a climax, pretending he was finally being given permission to cum.

Lincoln took three days to finish the piece. Each time he came back to it, he’d listen to the recording she’d sent again to refresh the idea in his head. He had the same burst of inspiration each time.

When he looked back over the piece, he’d found plenty to edit but the bones of the first draft had been solid. He finalized everything in the third draft and used a random name generator to choose a new name for the protagonist; he hadn’t meant to give the main character his name in the first draft, but he’d written it so quickly he hadn’t even noticed.

His heart was racing as he published the piece, messaging MissBeahave the link.

MissBeahave: Oh, it’s perfect. You did such a good job.

Lincoln glowed reading her praise. 

Writer-Liter: Thanks! I had a lot of fun with this one. If you have any other requests, I would love to write for you again.

MissBeahave: I’m sure I’ll think of one soon.

She sent her next prompt two days later,  sending a recording of the idea after sending payment.

Lincoln was impatient to start, sitting down with his headphones immediately. He felt a bit hazy as he opened a new writing document. He let the words out as they came to him.

He wrote about a transman being edged mindless by a femme dom. The teasing dialog he wrote for her made his core warm. The scene revolved around the transman spilling his secrets while his domme teased him, promising that once he shared a secret that she decided was embarrassing enough she’d finally let him cum.

Lincoln’s clit burned as he wrote the end: the main character left delirious and denied, drooling from pleasure, as his domme cleans him up and promises they can try again tomorrow. The domme tells him to thank her for not letting him cum and he sobs as he thanks her, feeling equally euphoric and tortured.

Lincoln posted his second draft, breaking away from his usual habit.

MissBeahave: So, so hot. You’re such a good writer. And you work so fast!

Writer-Liter: You flatter me, I’m only quick with your prompts. There’s something about your ideas, they’ve been lovely to work with.

MissBeahave: Oh?

Writer-Liter: Yea, I’ve just been struggling a lot with writing in general but your prompts feel like they’re getting me out of my writer’s block.

MissBeahave: I’m glad to hear they’ve been helpful. I promise to think up a new one soon.

***

By the fifth piece he wrote for her, he’d started posting his writing within 24 hours of receiving the prompt. He forced himself to fix up his first drafts, but again and again he found himself quickly skimming whole paragraphs carelessly. Typos and continuity errors didn’t seem to deter her from praising him; she said his ideas and structure made up for any little mistakes.

Their arrangement became almost routine, with her sending a new prompt nearly every other day for a whole month.

And then, silence.

Lincoln allowed six days to pass before he messaged her again. 

Writer-Liter: Have any new ideas come to mind yet? I hope I don’t sound too desperate, but I won’t charge a commission fee if you send me a prompt sometime tonight.

MissBeahave: Are you trying to rush me? Your manners could use some improvement. If you’re going to beg, at least beg properly.

Writer-Liter: I’m sorry. Please, may I have a new prompt?

MissBeahave: I like to be called Mistress.

Writer-Liter: please, please, please, may I have a new prompt, Mistress?

MissBeahave: Good enough. Give me an hour.

Lincoln kept his phone in hand and waited with bated breath until the notification came that she’d sent a recording.

Lincoln glanced at the video length and froze. It was just over 47 minutes long.

Her other recordings hadn’t been more than 15 minutes.

Before he let himself dwell on what that might mean, he pressed play.

Lincoln was suddenly aware he was walking to his bedroom, his body pulsing with need.

He stripped quickly and let his hands roam up and down his body as he laid down. He closed his eyes and focused on the sensations. His fingertips ran up and down his sides, sending shivers down his spine; any touch there always drove him crazy. He let his touch work up to his chest and neck. He skimmed his fingertips lightly, just enough to tickle his skin, as he moved back down to his sides, his hips, his thighs. He dipped one hand between his legs and groaned at the slightest contact to his clit.

Lincoln’s phone buzzed, pulling him up slightly from his haze.

Without checking the notification, he unlocked his phone and pulled up MissBeahave’s most recent recording, slipped his headphones back on, and hit play.

Lincoln realized slowly that he had stopped typing. He noticed it over and over, but couldn’t keep hold of the thought. He blinked dumbly at the screen and the words, wondering how he could stop typing when he didn’t remember starting to begin with.

Then he became aware of the thrumming of his body, the need still coursing through him, and his hands began to move again. He highlighted the document, copied, and published it to his page.

He desperately wanted to go back to touching, but he opened his messages and waited.

MissBeahave: I won’t lie, this new one might be my favorite.

Writer-Liter: This one came to me so fast I hardly remember writing it.

MissBeahave: I can only imagine. Your main characters are always so similar but I can’t complain. I’d be obsessed if I had a cute boy toy like that to play with.

Writer-Liter: I’ve been basing them all off of me, honestly.

MissBeahave: Oh yeah? That’s good to know. Perhaps you’ll slip a few details about yourself in that I can pick out. I know I could already tease you about all the things that turn you on.

Writer-Liter: You can always ask if you have questions. I think I’m a pretty open book.

MissBeahave: Some things are sweeter to learn indirectly. It’s a bit of a skill of mine to learn things people don’t always mean for me to know. My favorite are secrets that people don’t even know about themselves.

Writer-Liter: Have you learned any of my secrets yet?

MissBeahave: A few.

Lincoln’s heart was racing as his phone dinged, alerting him of a new recording MissBeahave sent. He closed his eyes, knowing he was going to listen but going back and forth on whether he should look at how long it was.

He could feel goosebumps.

Without letting himself look at the timestamp, Lincoln peeked with one eye and hit play.

When he was aware again, Lincoln was lubing up his favorite dildo  already suctioned to his desk chair. Without missing a beat, he finished the preparations and pushed it into his cunt. With the toy fully seated inside himself, he opened a new writing document, set a timer for three hours on his phone, and set the new recording to play on loop.

He started typing as her voice started to flow into his brain. The haze was perfect. He had never cum from cockwarming, but he felt his pleasure rise and crest, getting right to the edge over and over.

Lincoln still felt fuzzy as he heard the timer go off. He looked at his desktop and saw he’d sent the first draft to MissBeahave twenty minutes ago and was already writing on a new piece as he waited for feedback.

Only pausing long enough to turn off his phone and remove his headphones, Lincoln kept typing. Every few paragraphs, the heat got too intense to bear and he would roll his hips and bounce on his toy, mewling at the feeling of getting close, so close, but never quite slipping over the edge.

MissBeahave: You’re so so cute, toy. Are you still working or do you need a new prompt?

Lincoln nearly sobbed at the idea of a new recording.

Writer-Liter: Please, please, a new prompt, please.

MissBeahave: How could I say no to that?

She sent the new recording immediately and Lincoln pressed play.

He’d posted the video before he felt totally coherent again. Watching it back, he was surprised but turned on at the noises he made. He watched his biggest toy slip in and out as he moaned.

“Only for you, Mistress,” he gasped in the recording. “I belong to you. All yours, Mistress.”

He blushed, embarrassed, but was too enraptured to look away from his phone. He barely considered taking the video down when he saw a new message come in.

MissBeahave: Good job, toy. I had no idea you were so ready.

Writer-Liter: I’ve never recorded something like that. I’ve never posted videos or pictures of myself online.

MissBeahave: Would you do it again?

Writer-Liter: For you? Yes.

MissBeahave: You’re such a perfect porn slut, you know? 

Writer-Liter: I don’t know why it feels so good when it’s for you.

MissBeahave: you haven’t figured it out yet?

Writer-Liter: figured out what?

MissBeahave: that you were made to be my personalized porn pet.

Writer-Liter: I’m… fuck that’s so hot.

MissBeahave: you’re so cute.

An audio recording came in and Lincoln hit play immediately. In a daze, he grabbed his biggest toy and slid it back into his cunt, holding it in place as he grabbed a vibrator to torture his clit.

“Please,” he whimpered. Vaguely, he registered that he was responding to something in the recording as he listened, but he couldn’t quite remember what the voice in his ears was saying. “Please, Mistress, please, please.”

Tears streamed down his face. He briefly  wondered why he wasn’t setting his phone up to record himself again, but part of him knew he was doing just what he was meant to. His body throbbed.

“I am a good boy, I’m doing just as I’m told,” he moaned. “I am a good boy.”

Lincoln was slumped against his pillows, sitting up just enough to keep the dildo in, his body shivering. The vibrator had turned off ages ago, but he still found himself bucking against it.

The first noise that his brain registered was the door to his room opening. The second was his bed creaking, feeling the mattress dip and sway with movement.

Hands gently removed his headphones and set them aside before trailing across his shoulders and down to his chest.

Lincoln let out a quivering moan.

“All fucked out, sweet thing?” a familiar voice whispered in his ear.

Lincoln could only grunt. His hips jerked weakly.

“Mmm, not quite I see.”

Hands turned him over, laying him on his stomach and pushing his legs further apart. She slowly pulled the toy out of his cunt. His eyes opened briefly, but he could only see his wall and the bed below him. He felt so empty without his toy and mewled at the loss.

“Shh, shh, I have you, Lincoln,” she said gently, her hands rubbing over his back and arms. “You’re gonna feel so so good.”

“Mistress?” Lincoln asked weakly.

“Still some thoughts in that head, hm?”

Two of her fingers slipped into his cunt easily. His back arched at the feeling.

“How?” His voice sounded hoarse.

“You asked for this, remember?” she answered with faux sympathy. She slipped a third finger in. “All those little stories and videos, you gave me everything I needed to know: your age, your name, your address. I even know that you followed my instructions and asked for the next 2 weeks off of work, so it’ll be awhile before anyone comes looking for you. We’ll be long gone before anyone notices you’re missing..”

Lincoln mewled as she curled her fingers inside him.

“There we go, sweet thing. You’re so brainless you’re not even listening anymore, are you?”

“Please,” Lincoln begged.

“Please what, toy?”

“Please let me cum.”

She smirked. “That’s how I know you’re ready to be mine.”

She pulled her fingers out of his cunt and quickly wrapped him in a blanket, steadying him on his feet as his knees threatened to buckle.

“I promise you’ll get to cum, toy,” she said, kissing his tear stained cheeks. “But we have a bit of a to-do list first. I’m going to take you home, you are going to worship my cock with your throat, and then, if you’re good, I’ll let you cum before I break you completely. How does that sound?”